


Unspoken Things

by Saziikins



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Davos understands, F/M, M/M, Sort of TV series compliant, Spoilers for series six, Stannis has emotions, Trying to fix Davos' POV from the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7149716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saziikins/pseuds/Saziikins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davos reflects on times spent alone with Stannis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reaction to a post by Cerellelanister on Tumblr, which said: "I don’t suppose anyone who writes ASOIAF/GoT fic could write something where Davos actually reacts to and deals with Stannis’ death? Because we’ve got 4 episodes left and I’ve accepted it’s just not happening, that the only thing that we’ll get is the fallout from Davos finding out how Shireen died. I am not looking forward to that AT ALL.  
> "TWOW is not exactly round the corner and I’m so frustrated and sad at being stuck with the show taking the deeply disappointing and emotionally unsatisfying route of just ignoring Davos’ devotion to and love for Stannis as if it never existed." 
> 
> So this is my attempt. It's mostly TV show compliant but some book references may have slipped in... (Not helped by the fact I see Dillane/Cunningham as the perfect Stannis/Davos). Character death warning. If you've seen season six then you know what I'm talking about.

Stannis is dead. Those words race around his head, and he is frozen to the spot, the truth of it buried deep inside him. He wants to be alone, but he cannot be yet. He tries to forget it, tries to ignore it. But then he has never been able to shake the deaths of others from his shoulders.

He carries his sons’ deaths with him every moment of his life. He feels it like a knot, tangled up in his heart. It is a dull ache. A constant one. Somehow it is always with him, and he feels it as he touches the sword at his side. He is a bringer of death himself. He has killed sons. He has killed fathers and uncles and brothers. Others have mourned as he does now.

He feels as though he killed his own sons too. He led them to that battle, to war, to those boats, to Stannis. Stannis. Stannis’ death is not felt like a knot. It is more of a piercing pain in his chest, sharp and stabbing. Perhaps that too will fade, eventually, and become a part of the tangle of guilt and loss he feels, but for now, right now, it is agonising.  

Somehow, through Stannis’ leadership, he has become a man of duty himself. He will be dutiful to Jon Snow now, because the man died for his duties to the realm, and Davos knows Stannis would have admired that about him. So Davos gets through the day with the pain, and lets it sit there.

Alone, though, finally, he sits by a fire and takes a long breath, his eyes falling closed.

Stannis is dead.

‘It’s a strange thing’, Davos thinks, as he tries to remember. He can see Stannis’ face in his mind. Or at least, he can see an outline. He can see the piercing blue of his eyes, and the tightness in his jaw, and he can see it all… only he cannot see it all at once. It is as though his memories of Stannis have already blurred, and now he is only pieces Davos can grab at one at a time.

There is no one to share his grief with. And no one who would understand. And no one who would want to try.

 

_Davos is surprised to find him in the docks of Storm’s End. He stands alone, gloved hands clenched at his sides. For a moment, Davos considers retreating and leaving him to his reflections. But then Stannis’ eyes meet his and Davos has no choice but to bow his head and make his way to his side._

_It surprises Davos every time he gets close at just how thin Stannis is. His cheeks are hollow, his piercing blue eyes sunken and dark. Beneath his cloak, he does not seem quite so small, yet Davos knows that without it, he is slight and in desperate need of a hearty meal. Davos feels protective towards him, an instinct not befitting of a man with Stannis’ temperament and disposition. Stannis does not need protecting, Davos knows that._

_They are looking out into the docks, where the shipbuilders work in light rain, winds sometimes swirling around them. Davos shivers, but Stannis is unmoved. “What is your assessment?” Stannis asks, his voice tight. It is a question, yet Davos feels it is more of a test._

_“Of what, my Lord?” Davos asks._

_“The ships.”_

_“That’s a good kind of tree they’re using. They look strong, but built for speed.”_

_“Those builders are not made for speed.”_

_Davos pauses to look at them. No, he has to admit to himself. They are as thin as Stannis is, many of them, and struggling under the weight of the planks of wood. Many of them have to stop to rest and others spend time by a fire before swapping places. “They will get stronger,” Davos tells him. “It’s not been long since the siege ended.”_

_Stannis does not reply. Davos glances at him, and keeps his tongue. Davos has come down to the docks every day since the shipbuilding started. He would like to be back on the sea, but he has committed himself to Stannis now, and he dare not leave without his Lord’s say-so. He will not even broach the subject of travelling to see his wife. Stannis has decided he wants him here, so here Davos will stay._

_Still, though, he misses the sea in ways he never thought he would. ‘I chose the sea’, he thinks. ‘I hoped it would give me a better life, though I never thought it would last. The sea has made my life. And now I am being forced to give it up’._

_It isn’t all bad. He is a Knight now, and though Davos has still not got the measure of Stannis Baratheon, his respect for the young man already runs deep._

_Without a word, Stannis turns on his heel and begins to walk away. Davos hesitates, hoping to take a closer look at the ships and speak to some of the builders, but then Stannis barks his name and Davos scurries up to him._

_They walk side by side, without a word shared. Davos does not know what to say to men like Stannis. He has never known. He has never had to know. Davos is sure he will_ never _know how to speak to Lords like Stannis. But men like Stannis… he has met unflinching men before. He has met stern men before, and determined men and men as cold as snow and hard as iron. He has never met those same men in one body, not until Stannis. Others flinch from him, even those who have known him since he was a child. How does Davos have any chance of saying the right thing to a man impossible to understand, and impossible to like?_

_But as they walk, Davos hears Stannis’ laboured breaths. He is keeping a brisk pace as they travel up the slope towards the castle, but he is struggling. Davos comes to a halt. He does not look at Stannis, but instead turns back towards the ships._

_He holds his breath and waits. Stannis’ footsteps continue for a few beats, and then stop. “What is it?” Stannis growls from behind him, but Davos can hear he is still catching his breath. The siege has not just made Stannis thin, it has made him ill and weary._

_Davos does not turn to him. “You see the ships better from here,” Davos says, though it’s a lie. Yes, he can see the size of them, or at least, the size they will be once the work is complete. But it is not possible to see the workmanship up close, nor ensure everything is going to plan._

_Still, Stannis falls back into step beside him, stays silent, and his breathing slows to normal._

_“I don’t see it,” Stannis finally bites out. “What do you see that I don’t?”_

_Davos is about to admit he does not really see anything, but he peers closer. “The sea’s there.”_

_“Of course the sea’s there,” Stannis snaps. “Do you think I knighted you so you could tell me what I can see with my own eyes?”_

_“But the waves are strong,” Davos points out. “You need a powerful boat to get through that.” He points to the largest in the docks. “That one will get you out, no trouble, and you could load it with men too. But that one…” He points to a boat, half finished, smaller and, dare Davos say it, ill-equipped for the journey to come._

_“What of it?” Stannis asks._

_“It’ll get out, more than likely. But it would struggle to survive a storm, especially with men as weak as they are. Stronger men could perhaps hold her steady, but she would not be my choice, not on a day like this, not in the seas they will be in.”_

_“You would not choose her.”_

_“No, my Lord,” Davos agrees. “You would risk the entire crew. I fear she wouldn’t make it.”_

_“Then she will not sail,” Stannis decides. “And you will deliver new instructions to the builders to build bigger ships.”_

_“Now, my Lord?” Davos questions._

_“Later.” Stannis begins to walk back to the castle, and Davos follows. But Davos holds back so as to prevent Stannis from marching. Instead, he takes slow and steady steps, and begins to talk, hoping that will prevent Stannis from pushing himself too hard._

_“I’ve survived storms in ships as small as that, I’ll grant you,” Davos tells him. “But we lost men in those waters. One sudden wave, and they’re overboard and it’s not ‘til morning you even know they’re missing. You can feel the winds building, and there is something in the air. The skies are grey, and the dark clouds begin to gather. And you know what’s coming.”_

_“My parents lost their lives in Shipbreaker Bay,” Stannis tells him, and Davos feels as though he has been punched in the gut._

_“My Lord…”_

_Stannis ignores him. “I will not let the men set sail on inferior boats. You have my word.”_

_“I… I’m sorry, my Lord.”_

_“Did you destroy their boat, Ser Davos?” Stannis snaps. Davos is speechless. “Then do not apologise. Do not offer platitudes you do not mean, I have no need for them.”_

_Davos swallows, and he hangs his head and they are silent for the rest of the walk. Stannis, though, does keep his pace slow, and they do not need to stop again. They reach the castle and slip inside, and Davos thinks he has never felt less certain in all his life._

_“I grew up hearing that Lords never listened to anyone,” Davos says before he can stop himself. Stannis’ head whips round to face him. “I promise you I am right about that ship,” Davos continues. “And I admire your…” He struggles for the word. And then he realises there is nothing specific he admires, but in fact it’s everything Stannis is. “I admire you.” He nods to himself. "I admire you," he says again._

_Stannis frowns at him, and Davos sees so much uncertainty there. For a few seconds, Davos is sure he has misspoken again, and this time he may be punished for it. But Stannis’ lips part, just a little._

_And the silence is heavy when Stannis bows his head in what may well be a wordless‘thank you’. He leaves before Davos can say anything more, and Davos watches him go._

_‘I chose the sea’, he thinks. ‘But that man chose me’._

_Stannis does not need protecting, that Davos knows. That does not mean he will not do it._

 

Davos is startled by his own own sob. It gets stuck in his throat, and he wants to roar and let it out, but in the end, he clenches his fists into his lap and squeezes his eyes shut. It’s raw, and so painful.

He has failed his sons, and failed Stannis, and he does not know how he found himself so alone. How is it possible, he wonders, to owe a man so much?

 

_The day is hot, and Davos is more than aware of it, because sweat is dripping down his back. Stannis does not seem to notice, and his sword slices through the air. Davos manages to lift his arm to meet the swing, but it sends another jolt of pain into his shoulder._

_Stannis steps away from him and raises his eyebrows. “Too slow.”_

_Davos just about manages to stop himself from glaring, and he lifts his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “We’ve been doing this for three days straight,” Davos reminds him. “I’m suffering with my shoulder.”_

_“Your assailant does not care for your shoulder,” Stannis bites out. “You fight through the pain or you die.” But Stannis does give him some reprieve, and he drops the practice sword onto the grass and drinks some water. Davos finds himself smiling, even through his own frustration._

_They have been in King’s Landing for six nights now, and it took less than a day for Stannis to lose his temper. For the first few days, Stannis paced up and down the castle. Davos often ended up following behind him, because, for some reason, Stannis insisted Davos needed to learn the ways of court._

_Davos felt like a child, being guided by his older, more self-assured relative. Stannis, though, is younger than him, though he acts wise beyond his years. Davos did not mind though. The more time he spent following Stannis around, the less he stumbled on his words around the other Lords and Ladies as he tried to act as though he fit into this world._

_It took only a day of watching Stannis as he got quieter and quieter around his older brother, the newly-crowned King, for Davos to realise that Stannis did not quite fit in either. So they explored the dungeons, and the crypts with the dragon skulls, and the castle walls while Stannis pointed out which of the Kingsguard were trustworthy and which were best at handling a sword._

_Which was what had led them here. “Ser Barristan Selmy,” Stannis had said as they walked past the knight, and Stannis almost sounded impressed._

_“Even I’ve heard of Barristan the Bold,” Davos said with a smile as they walked._

_“He is perhaps the only man in the Seven Kingdoms the songs and stories speak truthfully about,” Stannis replied._

_“He’s certainly impressive.”_

_“Of course you find him impressive,” Stannis muttered. “I’ve seen the way you handle a sword.”_

_“Pardon, my Lord?”_

_“You’ve kept your life so far,” Stannis had said as he increased his pace. “But you are no swordsman, Ser Davos.”_

_Davos had found himself laughing. “Well, I’m self-taught. I do my best.”_

_“Your best would still get you killed in a field of battle.”_

_“Anytime you want to offer me advice, I’ll gladly take it, my Lord.”_

_Stannis had turned to him, a glint in his eye. “I’m sure they have some practice swords in the armoury.”_

_That had been a dangerous glint he had seen in Stannis’ eye, Davos thinks as he collapses down onto the grass and lies down on his back. Three days of this. It was useful, he could concede that much. But he isn’t sure his shoulder deserves this much torture, just to ease Stannis’ boredom and frustration. Stannis had taken it easy on him at first. But then King Robert had angered him at dinner, and Stannis had begun to show off his full range of skills._

_‘He is impressive’, Davos thinks. ‘Good job I would be fighting at his side rather than against him’._

_“Take a break,” Davos says as he closes his eyes._

_Stannis stays where he is though. No one had come by this spot in all the times they had been sparring. Davos supposes it would not be in Stannis’ interests for someone to see a Lord training a smuggler in swordfighting, even if that smuggler was a knight now._

_Eventually, though, Stannis drops down beside him and yawns. ‘Moments like this, people would mistake him for being soft’, Davos thinks, smiling to himself as he watches him out of the corner of his eye. ‘And he is a normal man after all. And he tires like the rest of us and has weaknesses like every man who lived’._

_Stannis rubs at his shoulder and Davos is forced to hide his grin behind his hand and pretend he is coughing. Of course Stannis has been fighting through an aching shoulder too. Stannis shoots him a look, eyes narrowed._

_“What is it?” he demands._

_Davos manages to hide his smile. “It’s a hot day, my Lord,” he says. “And at the moment, we’re not at war.” Stannis frowns at him, his posture tense. Davos shrugs. “Maybe King Robert really can unite the kingdoms. And we won’t need our swords for a while.”_

_Stannis keeps staring at him as though Davos has said something unthinkable. But then his gaze softens, and he turns to look up at the sky as some birds fly above them. Davos cannot tear his eyes away from Stannis' face. His eyes are soft, jaw unclenched for the first time Davos can remember. Davos follows his gaze, and his eyes land on a bird sat quietly in a tree._

_“Goshawk,” Davos whispers._

_Stannis is quiet, but there is the trace of a smile on the corner of his lips. Davos smiles to himself again and lies back down, and rests in the silence, knowing Stannis is completely at ease._

_‘It’s peaceful’, Davos thinks, closing his eyes. ‘Who knew Stannis Baratheon could ever be soothed?’_

_Stannis does not feel peace very often, that Davos knows. So he stays quiet and they stay there until the sun begins to set._

 

Davos lights a candle, and he sits in the dark with it, staring as the flame flickers. He is sure he is the only one left to grieve for Stannis. He will never have a chance to be fully at peace, so he is holding a ceremony alone, swept up in thoughts of his King.

The years had treated Stannis badly, Davos realises that now. His brothers were cruel, and their taunts had cut deeply. Stannis had married a woman he did not love, and could not find love with.

‘But he loved his daughter’, Davos thinks, and the thought of Shireen makes his heart ache all over again.

 

_He cannot sleep. He has not slept properly for days. He misses his wife, and the winds around Dragonstone only remind him of her sweet smile and warmth. Giving up, he rises from his bed and dresses, and begins his walk through the castle. A baby’s cry catches his attention._

_He stops by the door and frowns to himself. The door is ajar, and Davos nudges it with his shoulder, opening it a fraction more. It is a door to a library, a small one which Stannis sometimes goes to and locks himself in. The baby continues to cry, but only a soft, pathetic cry, one which seems to stop and start._

_“Stop that,” Stannis says, though he is gentle with it. “This room should have placated you. It is not too hot, nor too cold. So stop it.”_

_Davos takes a step back. It is too private a moment to linger over. But his footstep must have been louder than he intended, for Stannis calls out to him. “Who is there?”_

_Wincing, Davos opens the door. “I could not sleep, my Lord. I’m sorry for...” His voice trails off as he takes a proper look at his Lord. Young Shireen is cradled in his arms, and Stannis does not seem quite so stern when he is holding a baby. Stannis raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Davos finally finishes, averting his eyes._

_“Shireen could not sleep either,” Stannis mutters. “Her mother got angry, and the nursemaid is…” Stannis stops short of saying it, but Davos knows how that sentence will end. Stannis despises the nursemaid, because she is too familiar, too giggly, too much the opposite of everything Stannis admires and respects in a person. “Shut the door.” Davos nods, and goes to leave. “I said shut the door, not walk out,” Stannis barks at him._

_Biting his lip, Davos does as he is instructed. Shireen is crying again. “What do you do with them?” Stannis asks, and he hardly looks at her. “The nursemaid checked she had everything, and she cried. I took her to the hall, with the fire, but she cried. I took her to the window, and she cried even more.”_

_“My sons never told me what they wanted when they were babes either,” Davos says with a half smile._

_Stannis hums, disgruntled, peering down at his daughter as though she is a puzzle to solve. He adjusts the blanket she is wrapped in. She cries, and Stannis squeezes his eyes shut._

_“Have you rocked her?” Davos asks, making his way to Stannis' side, so he can peer down at the precious bundle in his arms._

_“She was sick.”_

_Davos pulls a face. “I’m not much help.”_

_“No, you’re not,” Stannis agrees. He sighs and sinks into his chair. “Stop that,” he tells Shireen again, though he is glaring at the wall as he speaks to her. “You are my daughter. Not Renly’s. You should not whine like him.”_

_Davos watches them both, and he misses his children. “Have you read to her?” he asks. “My wife used to tell our sons stories, she made them up on the spot.”_

_“No,” Stannis says. “She is too young to understand stories.”_

_“She might like them all the same.”_

_“I don’t remember any stories. We do not have books with stories in either.” Stannis shakes his head, and he lifts Shireen a little higher. “Please stop,” he whispers to her. And to Davos’ amazement, she does. Stannis glances at Davos, a little fearfully. Neither of them move. Davos looks at her tiny face, and she is looking up at Stannis with wide eyes._

_Then the silence dies, and Shireen cries again. “No, no, no,” Stannis says. And then he catches himself. “No,” he whispers, looking straight at her. “There are boats in the bay,” he whispers to her. “Davos has a boat. There are lots of boats.”_

_Davos stares at him. Stannis is talking gibberish, but his soft voice seems to be soothing his daughter. “I don’t know any stories,” Stannis continues, not looking up and he suddenly seems so helpless. “I don’t have any stories to tell her.”_

_“I think she likes it when you talk to her,” Davos whispers back._

_“Is that it?” Stannis asks her, his voice soft. “Is that what you like?” She gurgles, and lifts her hand to Stannis’ face, touching his chin. Stannis’ face is full of amazement. “You like it when I talk to you?”_

_Davos hears the words, even when Stannis does not say it. Stannis thinks Shireen is the only one who has ever liked to hear him talk._

_Stannis does not feel needed often, if at all, Davos knows. And he is thankful for Shireen for giving him something Davos cannot easily prove himself._

 

Shireen. Stannis. Davos loves them both. Loved them both. Thinking about them as though they are in the past makes him so angry, and it reminds him of his sons again. He loves-loved-loves Shireen almost as his own. She taught him to read, and she smiled and laughed, and brought light to her father’s eyes.

But that had been the last time Davos had seen him truly happy, that night when Stannis had held her and soothed her cries. His chest aches when he thinks of that night, because days later, the greyscale had emerged.

He knows Stannis blamed himself. He knows he could not look at Shireen without thinking he failed her.

Just as Davos knows he failed them both. The candle is nearly burnt out. He will be alone in the dark soon, and he will have to sleep so he can serve Jon in the morning.

But while the flame still flickers, he allows his thoughts to drift again.

 

_And he is sitting in his King’s chambers at the Wall. And his King… his King stands by the window as he looks out into the yard. He called for Davos a while ago, but has not said anything. Davos stood for a time, before finally sinking into a chair, his legs too tired from riding to stand much longer._

_Stannis did not snap at him for doing so, and Davos is grateful for the rest. When Stannis finally turns to him, when it is almost dark outside, he seems younger somehow, illuminated by the flickering of the fire and the candles._

_“Davos,” Stannis murmurs, and he takes the seat opposite him at the table._

_“Yes, your Grace?” Davos asks._

_“I am making you an offer.”_

_Davos frowns. “An offer?”_

_“You have served me faithfully for many years. And it has been many years since you saw your wife. I do not know what is coming, but it is nothing good. If you stay, you may not live to see her again.”_

_Davos opens his mouth then closes it again. His shoulders sink. “I know, your Grace,” the words weighing heavily on him._

_“If you leave tonight, I would not think any less of you for it.”_

_‘He is letting me leave?’ Davos thinks, unsure._

_“Your Grace…” he begins._

_Stannis gestures to the door. “That is all.”_

_But Davos does not move. He cannot move. He loves his wife. He always has. But he has never dreamed of leaving Stannis, not through all those years of service. He has been at his side all those years. He stood with him, walked with him, marched with him, rode with him. He is Stannis’ man, more than he has been anyone else’s._

_And he would not leave him now._

_“I am not leaving,” Davos tells him firmly. “I pledged myself to you.”_

_“You gave a pledge many years ago, when a war was close to ending. Now there is another war coming, a war greater than one seen for thousands of years.”_

_‘He’s scared’, Davos realises, and that terrifies him. Stannis is so strong, sometimes Davos forgets the humanity inside him. Sometimes he forgets that Stannis is a man who yawns, whose eyes fill with delight at the sight of a goshawk. Sometimes Davos forgets that Stannis is a man who many cannot love, or even try to like._

_Davos meets his eyes, and they’re the same blue he saw all those years ago on the face of that thin and stubborn man, marching up a hill even while he battled for breath._

_“It’s not so bad, your Grace,” Davos says, though there is a tremble as he speaks. He stops for a second to regain his composure. “I can wield a sword almost as well as you, these days.”_

_For a moment, Stannis is speechless, frowning at him in bewilderment. And then… “How is your shoulder?” he suddenly asks._

_“Aching as much as yours is, I’d wager.”_

_A faint smile, a smile which is a toothy grin on anyone else’s face, appears on Stannis’ lips. “Barristan the Bold’s shoulders never ached,” Stannis murmurs._

_Davos bites back his grin. “Then the songs were lying. Because Barristan the Bold’s a man the same as you and I.”_

_Stannis’ smile lingers for a moment, and then it falls. He sits back in his chair. “Then you will stay?”_

_“I am here, your Grace. I serve you. I stay.”_

_Stannis drops his eyes to the table, and Davos rises from his chair. He still looks at Stannis though. ‘He expected me to leave him’, Davos thinks. ‘Does he truly think so little of me that he believes I would abandon him now?’_

_But Stannis has always felt abandoned, Davos knows. His parents, the Gods, Robert, Renly, they have all done him wrongs. But Davos would never wrong him. Davos is Stannis’ man, through and through, and every bit of him he has given up, he has given it up for Stannis. And he would do it all over again, if someone told him he must._

_And wordless, he stands at Stannis' side and lets his maimed hand drop to Stannis' shoulder. The seconds stretch out, but he does not move. And Stannis’ hand rises to cover his. His palm is warm, his fingers cool. They let the silence slip over them, and they hold onto that moment, lest it fade away. It has to, eventually. Davos has to move, and Stannis cannot afford to show his fear for long._

_Yet Stannis looks up at him. His eyes are filled with a thousand emotions, and Davos feels an ache in his chest._

_He loves this man, Davos knows. Over thousands of stolen moments between them, Davos has come to know a man no one else ever has. He has come to see a man no one else sees. ‘How can a man mean so much to another?’ Davos wonders. ‘And how can one man mean so much to me?’_

_Stannis drops his head, and lifts his hand from Davos’. And Davos leaves the room._

 

The candle goes out. The room goes dark. And somewhere, from somewhere in Davos’ head, or from somewhere in his heart, he thinks he hears something.

He thinks he hears ‘thank you’.

And from wherever he rests now, Davos thinks his King knows he is loved.


End file.
